


Difference of a Letter

by BuddyTheMeanPeacock



Series: Drabbles and Oneshots (DimiClaude) [27]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), sleepy claude is cute change my mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28005756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddyTheMeanPeacock/pseuds/BuddyTheMeanPeacock
Summary: It was a slip of the tongue from a tired mind. That does not stop mean it can not stick with Dimitri over the years.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Series: Drabbles and Oneshots (DimiClaude) [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561504
Comments: 8
Kudos: 115





	Difference of a Letter

The first time was during their school days at the academy, in the library.

It was early morning; another all-nighter for the both of them. Truly, it was nothing unusual. They have had many a sleepless time spent surrounded by books, though the topics they chose contrasted so heavily. Dimitri wasn’t sure what had made it to where he was awake for longer than Claude that night, given how… _uneasily_ long Claude can stay up for and still function as normal, but such it was. Claude lay asleep, arms crossed on the table with his head resting on them.

Dimitri had intended to simply allow Claude to rest his eyes for a break; he knew how zealous the leader was when it came to pursuing new information. He honestly hadn’t meant to allow Claude to sleep, but… so rarely had Dimitri seen such a peaceful look on his face in the months he’s known him. Perhaps it was selfish, but something about it… he liked it, simple though it may sound.

But the morning sun was rising, as told by the bells ringing. They needed to begin preparing for the day, which meant waking Claude from the sleep he obviously wasn’t going to end by himself. Dimitri rose from his seat and gently - very gently - placed a hand on Claude’s shoulder.

_(He remembers one time, how he carelessly went to awake Claude. Not roughly - he couldn’t dream of it, not him - but perhaps with too much urgency. It surprised him, truly; he never knew one could be so soundly asleep one moment and be fully awake, armed with a dagger, in the next. He will never forget that flash of fear in green eyes, how quickly the apologies flowed out of golden lips.)_

“Claude,” Dimitri whispers, placing his other hand on the table in front of Claude’s face. “It’s time to wake up.”

Claude’s eyebrows scrunch together as he mumbles something to himself and stretches, the popping sounds that followed quite loud. He opened his eyes, unfocused, and looked at Dimitri.

“I hope you had a fine rest, Claude,” he says, a small smile forming on his face at the sight of the shorter house leader. It was rare that Claude ever looked so-

“Dimiti…?”

…  
  
…  
  
…

...What?

Before Dimit _r_ i could react Claude blinked once, twice, thrice, and yawned. “Agh, what time is it?” he asked, turning his head from side to side to the result of more resounding cracks.

“...It is morning,” Dimitri answers absentmindedly. “...Claude, what did you-”

“Damn, already?!” Claude shot up from his chair. “Hannemen’ll have my head if I’m late again! See you later!”

With that he bolted out of the door, leaving Dimitri alone in the library. In the back of his mind he remembers that he too should not be late, though professor Byleth is far less strict about attendance. The rest of his mind, however, was filled with one thought. One word. One name.

_Dimiti_

_Dimiti_

_Dimiti_

Why was it getting to him. It was merely a slip of the tongue, from the mind of someone just coming from sleep. From the looks of it Claude did not even know he misspoke. It meant nothing. 

And yet those sleepy green eyes looking at him, those threaded eyebrows scrunched together in slight annoyance at being awoken, the quiet utterance of _Dimiti_ … it was… was…

He shook his head. He should not be thinking in such a way about Claude. He ignored the hope that he may again hear Dimiti again and left for his classes.

\---

The second time was five years later, a couple of months after their reunion.

Far from the boy he was in the academy, he took little care in the affairs of the war. He is a tool to be used to kill the one responsible for the torment of his ghosts; simply put, nothing else matters more than that. The method with which to do so is of no concern for him.

It matters not that their taking of the Great Bridge gained the full support of the Alliance. How that brought to them vaguely familiar faces of classmates of the past. 

How it brought Claude back into his life.

At first shocked at his change Claude quickly adjusted. Conversing with him often, giving him space when necessary, simply being in his presence; after two months their routine was beyond regular.

It was now nighttime. Dimitri had meant to find relief from his thoughts in the cathedral, the one place he has found that has given him a semblance of clarity, if rarely. He went, hurried, wanting nothing more than to be rid of their chanting, their calls, their reprimands. 

The Golden Deer classroom came to his sights, its door slightly open with a dim light coming through the cracks.

It gave Dimitri pause. He knew of one person in the monastery who could be there at this time of the night. He turned and opened the door.

There Claude was, slumped over desks pushed together to make room for the multitude of papers and books and maps that surrounded him. His head lay resting on crossed arms in the one area free of clutter. Dimitri did not know for certain how long Claude had been in this room, whether he only just laid his head down or if this was a break-turned-sleep that occurred some time ago. No matter; it was foolish of Claude to push his body so recklessly. Dimitri entered the room proper and strode over to the resting man, raising a hand to-

_Verdant fear_

_Golden remorse_

...gently. Very gently. Place it on Claude’s shoulder.

“Claude,” Dimitri whispers, placing his other hand on the table in front of Claude’s face. “Go back to your room.”

Claude’s eyebrows scrunch together as he mumbles something to himself and stretches, the popping sounds that followed quite loud. He opened his eyes, unfocused, and looked at Dimitri.

Having Claude’s attention, shaking off the feeling of familiarity, Dimitri continues. “If you are weary then sleep in your bed.”

Their positions, this circumstance, Claude’s face; something about it rang a bell in Dimitri’s mind, try as he might to ignore it. It was useless, whatever it was; that, he was sure-

“Dimiti…?”

And then it hit him.

One early morning in the library, five years ago. Claude, peaceful, relaxed, looking at Dimitri with blurry eyes not quite with reality. The slightest mispronunciation of his name striking such a mighty chord within him then. 

And now. 

He is still unsure why. Why the difference of one mere letter sticks so readily and resiliently with him. So much has changed, Dimitri no longer the boy he was five years ago, and yet _this_ , this has not changed. How the sight of Claude so… _comfortable_ leaves such an impression on him, his want to not press fear into green eyes once more, his want to… hear it once more. Hear that misspoken name.

His dislike of said want.

He was a beast, less deserving now than ever before to _want_ such trivial things. It was not his place to _want_ , to _desire_. He must _do_. He must _act._ That is all one such as him had any right to.

He turns and leaves the room and Claude behind him, his ghosts drowning out the whispered name.

\---

He finally hears it again some years later, after the war.

Fodlan has found some semblance of peace, finally, after suffering the toils of war. Dimitri himself has managed to find something akin to it during it, his mind managing to at last find some give from the iron-clad grip the dead so fervently have on it. He knows that true reprieve from such a force is unlikely, given how long the fingers have dug into him, how deeply, the imprints now moulded into his being as though they were always there. At times it was hard to remember that there was a time that they weren’t.

It was morning. The sunlight was drifting through the windows of his chambers, lighting the room in an ever-pleasing glow. But on one spot in particular, it shined a mesmerizing golden-bronze.

He honed his focus on this spot - on this person. Beyond anything he could ever hope to deserve, far past his understanding, Claude had found something in Dimitri worth loving. At first he thought that his mind had once more heard things not truly said, when Claude had so subtly returned Dimitri’s confession with his vow to return to him, once his business with his homeland had been finished. The shock of his love’s fatherland dimmed and died when faced with the blaze Dimitri felt when he saw Claude come back to _him_ , with that beautiful smile that stole the breath from his lungs.

He looks upon his love now, his face peaceful in his rare-caught deep rest. Given their positions it was rare for the two of them to be able to be together like this. It was a treasure every time its presence chose to grace them. And it was their position that forces Dimitri, however much he wishes not to, to place a gentle hand on Claude’s shoulder.

“Wake up, my love,” he says quietly.

Dimitri, with his mind clear, sees Claude’s eyebrows scrunch together as he mumbles something to himself, sees him stretch with an unusually loud array of popping sounds following his movement, sees his open, unfocused eyes slowly settle on him, and is hit with memories from long ago, memories that never quite left him despite everything that surrounded them, and he anticipates what Claude’s sleep-addled lips were about to say:

“Dimiti…?”

Dimitri feels the smile on his lips, the chuckle in his throat, as he lets himself say the thought that had pricked his mind so long ago:

“You are adorable, my love.”

As Claude’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush, his denouncements of such a claim immediate and certain, Dimitri could not stop the laugh that wished to be let out as his love only further proved how utterly cute he could be even on accident, with his otherwise sharp tongue dulled and numbed with the lingering fatigue of wakefulness. How could he help but love such an endearing mistake? When he knows how others could not even say his true name when he asked, and here Claude is so relaxed in his presence the thought of formality did not even cross his mind? So relaxed that not even his otherwise unyielding caution could keep its strength?

Such a revelation was made long ago, one night on a cold bed. He had been waiting for the next instance of the name being uttered ever since, and he is glad to feel it still affect him so.

Dimitri leans over to place a chaste kiss on Claude’s forehead, which only serves to upset the man known for his patience further, the slip of the tongue that was Dimiti still singing in his ears and ridding his body of the frigid morning air.


End file.
